THE 


BUILDING   OF  THE  SHIP. 


HENRY  WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW. 


b 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


BOSTON: 
FIELDS,    OSGOOD,    &    CO. 

1870. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 

HENRY   WADSWORTH   LONGFELLOW, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


J~\  f 

PS 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


[The  Engravings  by  A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY  and  W.  J.  LINTON.] 


I.         "  In  the  ship-yard  stood  the  Master."  . 
Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 

II.         "  Stanch  and  strong,  a  goodly  vessel."  . 
Artist,  R.  S.  GIFFORD. 


III. 


VIII. 


THE  GREAT  HARRY     . 

Artist,  R.  S.  GIFFORD. 


IV.         "  A  beautiful  and  gallant  craft."     . 
Artist,  R.  S.  GIFFORD. 

V.         "  Pascagoula's  sunny  bay."    .... 
Artist,  R.  S.  GIFFORD. 

VI.         "  The  old  man  and  the  fiery  youth." 
Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 

VII.         "  He  saw  the  form  of  his  promised  bride."    . 
Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 


THE  SHIP- YARD  . 

Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 


PAGE 
.      II 


•  15 

•  17 
.      19 
.     24 

.     28 

•  34 


List  of  Illustrations. 


IX.  "  The  magic  charm  of  foreign  lands.'*        .         .     37 

Artist,  R.  S.  GIFFORD. 

X.  "  The  silent  group  in  the  twilight  gloom."  .         .     40 

Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 

XI.  "  Loomed  aloft  the  shadowy  hulk."    .         .        .43 

Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 

XII.         "  And  at  the  bows  an  image  stood."  .        .        .47 
Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 

XIII.  "  The  jaded  steers, 

Panting  beneath  the  goad."     .         .         .        .52 
Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 

XIV.  "  In  foreign  harbors."          .        .         .       • .        .55 

Artist,  R.  S.  GIFFORD. 

XV.        "  The  ocean  old." 57 

Artist,  R.  S.  GIFFORD. 

XVI.         "  The  prayer  is  said, 

The  service  read." 62 

Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 

"The  Fortunate  Isles." 67 

Artist,  R.  S.  GIFFORD. 

"  She  leaps  into  the  ocean's  arms."   .         .         .     70 
Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 

"  Gentle,  loving,  trusting  wife."  .         .         .         -75 
Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 

XX.        TAIL-PIECE  7Q 


Artist,  W.  J.  HENNESSY. 
7 


THE 


BUILDING    OF    THE    SHIP. 


THE    BUILDING  OF   THE   SHIP. 


"  "OUILD   me   straight,    O   worthy   Master! 

Stanch   and    strong,  a   goodly   vessel, 
That   shall  -laugh   at   all   disaster, 

And   with   wave   and   whirlwind   wrestle  !  " 


The   merchant's   word 

Delighted   the    Master   heard ; 

For  his  heart  was  in   his  work,  and  the  heart 

Giveth   grace   unto    every   Art. 

A   quiet   smile   played   round   his   lips, 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

As   the   eddies   and   dimples   of  the   tide 

Play   round   the   bows   of  ships, 

That   steadily   at   anchor   ride. 

And  with  a   voice   that  was   full   of  glee 

He   answered,   "  Erelong   we   will   launch 

A   vessel   as   goodly,   and   strong,   and   stanch, 

As   ever  weathered   a   wintry   sea ! " 

And   first   with   nicest   skill   and    art, 

Perfect   and   finished    in   every   part, 

A  little   model   the   Master  wrought, 

Which   should   be   to   the   larger   plan 

What   the   child   is   to   the   man, 

Its   counterpart   in   miniature ; 

That   with    a   hand   more   swift   and    sure 

The   greater   labor   might   be   brought 

To   answer   to   his   inward   thought. 

And   as   he   labored,   his   mind   ran   o'er 

The   various  ships   that   were   built   of  yore  ; 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

And   above    them    all,   and    strangest   of  all, 

Towered   the    Great    Harry,    crank   and   tall, 

Whose   picture   was   hanging   on    the   wall, 

With   bows   and   stern    raised    high    in    air, 

And   balconies   hanging   here    and   there, 

And   signal   lanterns   and   flags    afloat, 

And  eight  round  towers,  like  those  that  frown 

From    some    old    castle,    looking   down 

Upon   the   drawbridge   and    the   moat. 

And   he    said  with  a  smile,    "  Our  ship,   I  wis, 

Shall    be    of  another   form   than    this ! " 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

It   was    of  another   form,   indeed ; 

Built   for   freight,    and   yet   for   speed, 

A   beautiful   and   gallant   craft ; 

Broad  in  the  beam,  that  the  stress  of  the  blast, 

Pressing   down    upon   sail   and   mast, 

Might   not   the   sharp   bows   overwhelm ; 

Broad   in   the   beam,    but   sloping   aft 

With   graceful   curve   and   slow   degrees, 

That    she   might   be   docile   to   the   helm, 

And    that   the   currents   of  parted    seas, 

Closing   behind,   with   mighty   force, 

Might   aid   and   not   impede   her   course. 


The  Building  of  tJie  Ship. 

In    the    ship-yard   stood   the    Master, 
With    the   model   of  the   vessel, 

That   should   laugh   at   all   disaster, 

And   with   wave   and   whirlwind   wrestle ! 

Covering  many   a   rood   of  ground, 

Lay   the   timber   piled   around ; 

Timber   of  chestnut,    and   elm,   and   oak, 

And   scattered   here   and   there,   with   these, 

The   knarred   and  crooked   cedar  knees ; 

Brought   from    regions   far   away, 


From    Pascagoula's   sunny   bay, 

And    the   banks   of  the   roaring   Roanoke ! 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

Ah !    what   a   wondrous   thing   it   is 

To    note    how   many   wheels    of  toil 

One   thought,   one   word,   can   set   in   motion ! 

There 's   not   a   ship   that   sails   the   ocean, 

But   every   climate,    every   soil, 

Must   bring   its   tribute,   great   or   small, 

And   help   to   build   the   wooden   wall ! 

The   sun   was   rising   o'er   the   sea, 

And   long   the   level   shadows   lay, 

As   if  they,    too,   the   beams   would   be 

Of  some   great,    airy   argosy, 

Framed   and   launched   in    a   single    day. 

That   silent   architect,   the   sun, 

Had   hewn   and   laid   them    every   one, 

Ere   the   work   of  man   was   yet   begun. 

Beside   the    Master,   when   he    spoke, 

A   youth,    against   an   anchor   leaning, 

Listened,    to   catch   his   slightest   meaning. 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

Only   the   long   waves,    as   they   broke 
In   ripples   on   the   pebbly   beach, 
Interrupted    the   old   man's   speech. 

Beautiful   they   were,    in    sooth, 

The    old   man   and   the   fiery   youth  ! 

The   old   man,   in   whose   busy   brain 

Many   a   ship   that   sailed   the   main 

Was   modelled   o'er  and   o'er   again  ;  — 

The   fiery   youth,   who   was   to   be 

The    heir  of  his   dexterity, 

The  heir  of  his  house,  and  his  daughter's  hand, 

When   he   had  built   and   launched   from   land 

What   the   elder   head   had   planned. 

"  Thus,"    said   he,    "  will   we   build   this   ship  ! 
Lay   square   the   blocks   upon   the   slip, 
And    follow   well    this   plan    of  mine. 
Choose   the   timbers   with   greatest   care ; 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

Of  all   that   is   unsound   beware  ; 

For   only  what   is   sound   and  strong 

To   this   vessel   shall   belong. 

Cedar   of  Maine   and    Georgia   pine 

Here   together   shall   combine. 

A   goodly   frame,    and   a   goodly   fame, 

And   the    UNION   be   her   name ! 

For   the   day   that   gives   her  to   the    sea 

Shall   give   my   daughter   unto   thee ! " 

The    Master's   word 

Enraptured   the   young   man    heard  ; 

And   as   he   turned    his   face   aside, 

With  a   look   of  joy   and   a   thrill   of  pride, 

Standing   before 

Her   father's   door, 

He    saw   the   form    of  his   promised   bride. 

The  sun   shone   on   her   golden   hair, 

And   her   cheek   was   glowing   fresh    and   fair, 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

With  the  breath  of  morn  and  the  soft  sea  air. 

Like   a   beauteous   barge   was    she, 

Still   at    rest   on    the    sandy   beach, 

Just   beyond    the   billow's   reach ; 

But   he 

Was   the   restless,   seething,    stormy   sea ! 

Ah,    how   skilful   grows    the    hand 
That   obeyeth    Love's   command  ! 
It   is   the    heart,    and   not   the   brain, 
That   to   the   highest   doth   attain, 
And   he    who   followeth    Love's   behest 
Far   excelleth   all   the   rest ! 

Thus   with   the   rising   of  the   sun 

Was   the    noble   task   begun, 

And    soon   throughout    the   ship-yard's   bounds 

Were   heard    the   intermingled   sounds 

Of  axes   and   of  mallets,   plied 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

With    vigorous    arms    on    every   side  ; 
Plied    so    deftly   and   so    well, 
That,   ere    the   shadows    of  evening   fell, 
The   keel   of  oak   for   a   noble    ship, 
Scarfed    and    bolted,    straight   and    strong, 
Was   lying   ready,    and    stretched    along 
The   blocks,   well   placed   upon    the    slip. 
Happy,    thrice   happy,   every   one 
Who   sees   his   labor   well   begun, 
And   not   perplexed    and    multiplied, 
By   idly   waiting   for   time    and   tide  ! 

And   when    the   hot,    long   day   was   o'er, 
The   young   man    at   the    Master's   door 
Sat   with   the   maiden   calm    and   still. 
And   within   the   porch,    a   little   more 
Removed   beyond   the    evening   chill, 
The    father   sat,    and   told   them   tales 
Of  wrecks   in    the   great    September   gales, 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

Of  pirates   coasting   the    Spanish    Main, 

And   ships   that   never   came   back   again, 

The   chance    and   change   of  a   sailor's   life, 

Want   and   plenty,    rest   and   strife, 

His   roving   fancy,    like    the    wind, 

That  nothing  can  stay   and  nothing   can  bind, 


And   the   magic   charm   of  foreign   lands, 
With   shadows   of  palms,    and   shining   sands, 
Where   the   tumbling  surf, 
O'er   the    coral    reefs    of  Madagascar, 
Washes   the    feet    of  the    swarthy    Lascar, 
As   he   lies    alone    and    asleep    on    the   turf. 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

And   the    trembling   maiden    held    her   breath 
At   the   tales   of  that   awful,    pitiless   sea, 
With   all   its   terror   and   mystery, 
The   dim,   dark   sea,    so   like    unto   Death, 
That   divides   and   yet   unites   mankind  ! 
And   whenever   the   old   man   paused,    a   gleam 
From  the  bowl  of  his  pipe  would  awhile  illume 
The   silent   group   in   the   twilight   gloom, 
And   thoughtful   faces,    as   in   a   dream  ; 
And    for   a   moment   one   might   mark 
What   had   been   hidden   by   the   dark, 
That   the   head   of  the    maiden   lay   at   rest, 
Tenderly,  on    the   young   man's   breast ! 

Day   by   day   the   vessel   grew, 
With   timbers   fashioned    strong   and    true, 
Stemson    and   keelson    and    sternson-knee, 
Till,   framed   with   perfect   symmetry, 
A   skeleton    ship    rose   up    to   view ! 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 


And    around   the   bows   and    along   the   side 
The   heavy   hammers   and   mallets   plied, 
Till   after   many   a   week,    at   length, 
Wonderful   for   form    and    strength, 
Sublime    in    its    enormous   bulk, 
Loomed   aloft   the    shadowy   hulk ! 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

And  around  it  columns  of  smoke,  upwreathing, 

Rose   from   the   boiling,   bubbling,    seething 

Caldron,    that   glowed, 

And   overflowed 

With   the   black   tar,  heated  for  the  sheathing. 

And   amid   the   clamors 

Of  clattering   hammers, 

He   who   listened   heard   now   and   then 

The   song   of  the   Master   and   his   men :  — 

"Build   me   straight,    O    worthy   Master, 
Stanch   and   strong,    a   goodly   vessel, 

That   shall   laugh  at   all   disaster, 

And   with   wave   and   whirlwind   wrestle ! " 

With   oaken   brace   and   copper   band, 
Lay   the   rudder   on    the   sand, 
That,   like   a   thought,    should   have   control 
Over   the   movement   of  the  whole ; 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

And   near  it   the   anchor,    whose   giant   hand 
Would  reach  down  and  grapple  with  the  land, 
And   immovable   and   fast 
Hold  the  great  ship  against  the  bellowing  blast ! 


And   at   the   bows   an   image    stood, 
By   a   cunning   artist    carved   in   wood, 
With    robes    of  white,    that   far   behind 
Seemed   to   be   fluttering   in    the   wind. 
It   was    not    shaped    in    a   classic   mould, 
Not   like    a   Nymph    or    Goddess    of  old, 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

Or   Naiad    rising   from   the   water, 

But   modelled   from   the    Master's   daughter ! 

On    many   a   dreary   and   misty   night, 

'T  will  be  seen  by  the  rays  of  the    signal-light, 

Speeding  along  through  the  rain  and  the  dark, 

Like  a   ghost   in   its   snow-white    sark, 

The   pilot   of  some   phantom    bark, 

Guiding   the   vessel,   in   its   flight, 

By   a   path    none   other   knows   aright ! 

Behold,  at   last, 

Each    tall   and   tapering   mast 

Is    swung   into   its    place  ; 

Shrouds   and    stays 

Holding   it   firm    and   fast ! 

Long   ago, 

In    the   deer-haunted   forests   of  Maine, 
When    upon   mountain    and   plain 
Lay   the    snow, 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

They   fell,  —  those   lordly   pines  ! 
Those   grand,   majestic   pines ! 
'Mid   shouts    and   cheers 
The  jaded   steers. 
Panting   beneath   the   goad, 
Dragged   down   the   weary,   winding   road 
Those   captive   kings    so   straight   and   tall, 
To   be   shorn    of  their   streaming   hair, 
And,    naked   and   bare, 
To   feel   the   stress   and   the   strain 
Of  the    wind   and    the    reeling   main, 
Whose   roar 

Would   remind   them   forevermore 
Of   their   native    forests    they   should    not    see 
again. 

And   everywhere 

The   slender,   graceful   spars 

Poise   aloft   in   the   air, 

S3 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 


And   at   the   mast-head, 
White,   blue,    and    red, 
A   flag   unrolls   the   stripes   and    stars. 
Ah  !   when    the  wanderer,  lonely,  friendless, 
In    foreign   harbors   shall   behold 
That  flag   unrolled, 
T   will   be   as   a   friendly   hand 
Stretched    out   from   his   native   land, 
Filling    his    heart    with    memories    sweet    and 
endless  ! 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

All    is    finished  !    and   at   length 

Has   come   the   bridal   day 

Of  beauty   and   of  strength. 

To-day   the   vessel   shall   be   launched! 

With   fleecy   clouds   the   sky   is   blanched, 

And   o'er   the   bay, 

Slowly,    in    all   his    splendors    dight, 

The   great   sun   rises   to   behold    the   sight. 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

The   ocean   old, 

Centuries   old, 

Strong   as   youth,    and   as   uncontrolled, 

Paces   restless   to   and    fro, 

Up   and   down   the   sands   of  gold. 

His   beating   heart   is   not   at   rest ; 

And   far   and    wide, 

With   ceaseless   flow, 

His   beard   of  snow 

Heaves   with   the   heaving   of  his   breast. 

He   waits   impatient   for   his   bride. 

There    she   stands, 

With   her  foot   upon   the   sands, 

Decked   with   flags   and    streamers   gay, 

In   honor   of  her   marriage   day, 

Her   snow-white   signals   fluttering,    blending, 

Round   her   like   a   veil   descending, 

Ready   to   be- 

The   bride   of  the  gray  old   sea. 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

On   the    deck    another   bride 
Is    standing    by   her   lover's    side. 
Shadows   from    the    flags    and    shrouds, 
Like    the    shadows   cast   by    clouds, 
Broken    by   many   a   sunny   fleck, 
Fall    around   them   on   the   deck. 

The    prayer   is    said, 

The    service   read, 

The  joyous   bridegroom    bows    his   head ; 

And   in   tears   the   good    old    Master 

Shakes  the   brown    hand   of  his    son, 

Kisses   his   daughter's   glowing    cheek 

In   silence,    for   he    cannot   speak, 

And   ever   faster 

Down   his   own    the   tears   begin    to    run. 

The    worthy   pastor  — 

The    shepherd  of  that   wandering  flock, 

That   has   the   ocean   for   its   wold, 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

That   has    the   vessel    for   its   fold, 

Leaping   ever   from    rock   to   rock  — 

Spake,    with    accents   mild   and   clear, 

Words   of  warning,    words   of  cheer, 

But   tedious   to   the   bridegroom's   ear. 

He    knew  the    chart 

Of  the    sailor's    heart, 

All    its    pleasures   and   its   griefs, 

All   its  shallows   and    rocky   reefs, 

All    those    secret   currents,    that   flow 

With    such    resistless   undertow, 

And   lift    and   drift,    with   terrible   force, 

The   will   from    its    moorings   and   its   course. 

Therefore   he    spake,    and   thus   said   he :  — 

"  Like    unto    ships   far   off  at   sea, 
Outward   or   homeward    bound,    are   we. 
Before,    behind,    and   all   around, 
Floats    and    swings    the    horizon's   bound, 
65 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

Seems   at   its   distant   rim    to    rise 

And    climb    the    crystal   wall   of  the  skies, 

And    then    again    to    turn   and    sink, 

As    if  we   could    slide    from    its   outer   brink. 

Ah  !    it    is    not    the    sea, 

It   is    not    the    sea    that    sinks   and    shelves, 

But   ourselves 

That   rock   and    rise 

With   endless    and    uneasy   motion, 

Now   touching   the   very   skies, 

Now   sinking   into   the    depths    of  ocean. 

Ah !    if  our   souls  but   poise    and    swing 

Like    the  compass    in    its    brazen    ring, 

Ever   level    and    ever   true 

To    the   toil   and   the    task   we   have   to   do, 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

We   shall    sail   securely,    and    safely   reach 
The    Fortunate    Isles,  on  whose   shining   beach 
The   sights   we    see,  and    the    sounds   we    hear, 
Will  be   those   of  joy   and    not   of  fear !  " 

Then    the   Master, 

With   a   gesture   of  command. 

Waved    his   hand ; 

And   at   the   word, 

Loud   and    sudden    there   was   heard, 

All   around    them   and   below, 

The    sound   of  hammers,   blow   on   blow, 

Knocking   away   the    shores   and   spurs. 

And   see  !    she   stirs  ! 

She   starts,  —  she    moves,  —  she    seems   to   feel 

The    thrill   of  life   along   her   keel, 

And,    spurning    with   her   foot   the   ground, 

With   one    exulting,   joyous   bound, 

She   leaps   into   the   ocean's   arms ! 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

And    lo !    from    the    assembled   crowd 

There    rose    a    shout,    prolonged   and   loud, 

That   to    the    ocean    seemed   to    say, 

"  Take    her,    O    bridegroom,    old    and   gray, 

Take    her   to   thy    protecting   arms, 

With   all   her   youth    and   all   her   charms ! " 

How   beautiful    she   is !     How   fair 

She    lies   within    those   arms,    that  press 

Her   form    with   many   a  soft   caress 

Of  tenderness   and   watchful   care  ! 

Sail   forth    into    the    sea,    O    ship ! 

Through   wind    and   wave,  right   onward  steer ! 

The   moistened    eye,    the    trembling   lip, 

Are   not   the    signs    of  doubt   or   fear. 

Sail  forth  into  the  sea  of  life, 
O  gentle,  loving,  trusting  wife, 
And  safe  from  all  adversity 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 


Upon   the   bosom   of  that   sea 
Thy   comings   and   thy   goings   be ! 
For   gentleness    and   love   and    trust 
Prevail    o'er   angry  wave    and   gust ; 
And    in    the    wreck   of  noble   lives 
Something   immortal   still   survives! 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

Thou,    too,    sail    on,    O    Ship    of  State  ! 
Sail   on,    O    UNION,    strong   and   great ! 
Humanity   with    all    its   fears, 
With   all    the   hopes   of  future   years, 
Is   hanging   breathless   on  thy   fate ! 
We   know   what   Master   laid   thy   keel, 
What   Workmen    wrought   thy   ribs   of  steel, 
Who   made   each   mast,   and   sail,    and   rope, 
What    anvils    rang,    what   hammers  beat, 
In   what   a   forge   and   what  a   heat 
Were   shaped   the   anchors    of  thy   hope ! 
Fear   not   each   sudden    sound    and    shock, 
'T  is    of  the    wave    and   not   the   rock ; 
'T  is   but   the   flapping   of  the    sail, 
And   not   a   rent    made   by   the   gale ! 
In    spite   of  rock   and    tempest's  roar, 
In   spite   of  false   lights  on   the    shore, 
Sail   on,    nor   fear   to   breast    the    sea ! 
Our   hearts,    our   hopes,    are   all   with   thee, 

77 


The  Building  of  the  Ship. 

Our   hearts,  our   hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears, 
Our   faith,    triumphant   o'er   our  fears, 
Are    all   with    thee,  —  are    all   with    thee ! 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


NIVERS//V 


PS 

2271 

B86 


